


save a broom, ride a quidditch captain

by ayushi_writes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Klance Month 2018, M/M, Pidge (Voltron) Is A Little Shit, and lance is a thirsty commentator, coran is a chaotic neutral charms professor, i dont know anything about sports, keith is captain of the gryffindor quidditch team, some not-really-truth-serum shenanigans, thats it thats the premise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayushi_writes/pseuds/ayushi_writes
Summary: “And Rizavi snatches the Quaffle, along with mywig— shut up, Pidge, it makes sense— and Kogane is going for it— going— oh! Narrowly avoids a Bludger with a risky upside down maneuver— damn, wouldn’t mind those thighs wrapped around me—“Keith nearly falls off of his broom. What? The fuck? Lance seems equally confused by what just came out of his mouth, floundering for a second.“Uh, I mean, good show of physical conditioning from the Gryffindor team— so we have thecoolest older sister in the world, Veronica, going for the Quaffle again, it‘s falling, falling— and she catches it! And oh, no.” Lance could not physically sound less concerned. “Lotor seems to have been struck by a stray Bludger.”~Keith is captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and Lance is a commentator who definitely does not have a thing for jocks. Also, some questionably fermented potions are involved.for #klancemonth2018 !!





	save a broom, ride a quidditch captain

**Author's Note:**

> \- i found out about hogwarts weeks a DAY before it ended so this mess happened
> 
> \- this is a mashup of two prompts from [this](http://severus-snape-is-a-butt-trumpet.tumblr.com/post/130731709738/imagine-your-otp-hogwarts-edition-pt-2%0A-) post
> 
> \- the working title of this for the last 24 hours has been “the chronicles of thirsty bitch lance”
> 
> \- enjoy!

“Fancy seeing you ‘round here, Kogane.”

Keith startles, whirling around to see Lance McClain leaning against the entrance to the owlery. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Wow, don’t sound too excited.” Lance snorts, smiling a little. “What’re you doing up here?”

“Sending a letter to Shiro,” Keith automatically replies.

“Really?” Lance nods toward the sketchbook in Keith’s hands. “Writing him a whole novel, are you?”

He winces. Technically he _had_ come up here with a letter to send, but that was half an hour ago. The view from the top of the tower is breathtaking and Keith’s actually quite fond of the atmosphere, the soft fluttering of owl’s wings and the occasional squawks and coos drifting down.

“I— I sent him one,” Keith says defensively. “I was just, uh, getting some homework done.”

“Up here? In the cold?”

“It’s not _that_ cold, and— whatever, what are you doing up here?”

Lance holds up a bundle of letters. “Writing family, too.”

“Well, don’t let me stop you.”

Electing to ignore the other’s presence, Keith turns back to the sill he was sketching on before Lance arrived. He adds some strokes to the barn owl he’s drawing, pulling out texture in the wings. Scratching in detailing, his mind drifts off to the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

Keith had been as surprised as anyone else when along with his annual Hogwarts supplies list came with a congratulatory letter from Professor Smythe himself, proclaiming him as the new captain of the Gryffindor team. Shiro had pulled him into a warm hug, telling him he was going to be incredible, he was so proud of him, and Keith had groaned but accepted his brother’s encouragement. 

Now, halfway through the season, Keith feels more confident in himself as a leader than he expected. He’s not great at motivational speeches or team bonding or anything, but he works his ass off coming up with drills and strategies, making sure each player’s voice is heard, and establishing some kind of rapport with everyone. It’s paid off— Gryffindor’s looking pretty good in the running for the Quidditch Cup.

“Whatcha drawin’?” Lance’s voice pipes up a few feet away from Keith. He’s attaching the last of his letters to a fluffy-feathered tawny owl that pecks at his hair for a couple of moments before taking off through the window.

Keith gives up on pretending he was doing anything else. “Just, just some of the owls. I like practicing motion stuff, I guess.”

“Guess flight really is your thing, huh?”

Lance is smiling at him again. “Yeah. I like— yeah.” Why can’t Keith hold up a conversation to save his life?

Lance carries on easily. “It’s nice up here.” He looks around. “Not too quiet. More fluff to it than you’d expect from a dark, broody tower.” A spotted owl flutters over to perch near him, and he strokes its feathers affectionately. “Reminds me of someone.”

And with that, Lance bids him a nonverbal goodbye with a little finger salute-wave thing. Keith is left confused, with only the owls’ trills to keep him company.

* * *

“Fuck me with the sword of Godric Gryffindor himself, he’s wearing _sweatpants.”_

“Try to keep your food _in_ your mouth this time around, McClain.” Pidge adjusts their glasses in that annoyingly smug way they always do whenever Lance verbalizes his Thirst.

Keith Kogane looks painfully, _infuriatingly_ good in Muggle clothes. Merlin help him, when Lance first saw the broody Gryffindor in a worn leather jacket and black jeans, he had missed his mouth and poured orange juice straight into his lap. Pidge still makes fun of him for it.

In addition to being all angular and intimidating and _hot_ , Keith just has to go and be captain of the freaking Quidditch team too. Lance used to resent him for being so carelessly attractive and talented, but when it comes to classes, magic and academics come far more easily to Lance.

Their first interaction had been Lance running across Keith in the library, frustratedly trying to turn a teacup into a saucer. Lance offered to help Keith out, and by the time they were kicked out he could, with varying degrees of success, transfigure between small dishes.

Lance runs into Keith more often now, sharing a couple of courses with him in sixth year. What they have now is something a little beyond class acquaintances. Not quite close friends, but they nod at each other in the halls and talk sometimes when they end up in the same place at the same time. Like at the owlery.

He groans, remembering his weird cryptic flirting yesterday. “Reminds me of someone”? What is he, some trashy teen romcom protagonist? “Oh god, why do I talk?” he muses aloud.

“I ask myself that same question every day.”

“Shut up.” Lance buries his head in his arms. “I’m grieving any romantic potential Kogane and I ever had.”

Pidge turns away from trying to charm their goblet of juice and puts their hand on his arm. “Whatever you said or did, it wasn’t stupid enough to land you in the hospital wing. I’d say you still have a solid chance!”

“Thanks.” Lance’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. He props himself up to continue ogling Keith across the hall.

“Aside from getting to know the Gryffindor captain’s.... figure, all too well, you excited for the match coming up?” 

“You know me.” Lance grins. “My commentary can’t be beat.”

“‘Cause I’m there to keep you on track.”

“I stay on track!” Lance huffs. When he’s invested and focused, his commentary is unparalleled, narrating, throwing out jokes, and catching every move the players make. There’s a reason why him and Pidge have been in charge of it since third year.

“Yeah, but when you go off on a tangent, Professor Smythe is too whacked out on telling people about whatever Muggle thing he’s obsessed with to stop you!”

He grins. “Which is why he’s my favorite teacher.”

“Speak of the wizard.” Pidge gestures to the professor himself hurrying down by their table, a gaggle of students carrying various bottles and books trailing after him. As he passes by, they catch him saying, “Now hold on to those potions, wasn’t too easy to get old Unalu to lend them—“

“Oh!” A stocky fifth year trips over Lance’s bag, the contents of her arms spilling out over the bench and table he’s occupying.

“You alright, Shay?” A boy who looks similar to Shay kneels down, helping her gather her items.

“I am fine— sorry, are you two alright? Did anything spill on your belongings?” Shay looks so genuinely apologetic neither of them can be mad at her. 

“It’s alright!” Lance hands her a slightly cracked bottle that had fallen near his orange juice. “Don’t think any Draught of Living Death got mixed up with my breakfast,” he jokes, taking a swig from his goblet for good measure.

Shay laughs, looking a little more at ease. “Very well. I am sorry to have troubled you.”

“Not at all, I’m sure Lance needed something to distract him from Ke—“

“Anyway!” Lance cuts Pidge off, shooting her a glare. “Have fun helping Smythe with... whatever he’s doing.”

“I am not entirely sure myself.” Shay furrows her brows. “Something to do with Astronomy Tower and settling a debt to a colleague.” She glances down at a piece of parchment in her arms. “I must go now. Goodbye!”

They call goodbyes after her as she rushes down to the Great Hall doors.

“Well, I should be off too. Gotta get my game face on,” Lance strikes a pose with a hand under his chin.

“You mean do facemasks and read Witch Weekly until it’s time for the match?”

“I said what I said, Holt.”

* * *

It’s barely been five minutes since Lance swaggered off that Shay comes rushing back into the Great Hall.

“Where is your friend?” she asks Pidge frantically.

“He just left, why? Is everything okay?”

“I fear he may have consumed a potion with some... dangerous side effects.”

“What?” Pidge is worried now.

“The bottle that cracked near his goblet, it contained some of a— well, a _theoretically_ harmless soothing potion for afflictions of the mind, but, well... if dosed improperly, tends to loosen the tongue and speak thoughts not meant for others’ ears.”

“So... like a truth serum?”

Shay shakes her head worriedly. “Not quite Veritaserum, but it’s been in a back cupboard for a while. I’m not sure if fermenting has made it any more or less potent, but I wish not to leave it to chance.”

* * *

“Welcome, students, to the Hufflepuff-Gryffindor showdown!” Lance’s voice rings out across the field. “I’m Lance McClain, your man in the booth and resident heartbreaker of Hogwarts—“ Pidge groans. “Just kidding! Ladies, men, and nonbinary friends, I will treat you right and respect your emotions and boundaries _so hard_ —“

Pidge elbows him. “Lance, _the game_.”

“Right! Our lineup today includes Hufflepuff captain Nadia Rizavi— helloo, there—“ Lance shoots a finger gun at her, as if she can even see what he’s doing from the field, “—and teammates Griffin, who I trust about as far as I can throw, Leifsdotter, an angel among us, too good, too pure for this world, and Ryan Kinkade, who could run me over with a bus and I’d thank him—“

“Focus.”

“Slav, who may be beating out Trelawney in the paranoia Olympics, Sven, a spicy Norwegian meat pie— does that make sense? Whatever, he’s delicious. And Matt Holt— the ponytail suits you _very much_ , if i do say so myself—“

“Gross, that’s my _brother_ you’re talking about—“

“And the Gryffindor team!” Lance barrels on. “Our very own Veronica McClain— love ya, sis! Romelle, a real life princess, royalty, an empress— Acxa, Ezor, and Zethrid, who I think all want to kill me but hey, murderous intent? Totally my type. And Lotor.” Lance pauses. “Bitch ass. And their captivating captain, Keith Kogane!”

The crowd had been cheering throughout all of Lance’s spiel, but they grow even louder at the last name. Keith holds an odd sort of popularity status amongst the students, with his mysterious Muggle-born talent and enigmatic exterior. The fact that he’s been leading Gryffindor to victory all season doesn’t hurt much, either.

The not-truth serum Lance took doesn’t seem to be affecting him any worse than usual— his introductions are always preceded by his casual flirting before getting to the game talk. Pidge decides it’s probably not worth worrying about.

“And before we get into the match, might I say, Kogane, those Muggle clothes do an _excellent_ job emphasizing your—“

Pidge groans again. “Lance, can you stop thirsting over half the players? We get it, you’re into jocks.”

* * *

Keith slips into his game mindset fairly easily, only registering essential auditory and visual input— the dull red of the Quaffle, the calls from his teammates, and whatever additional information the commentator provides. He won’t deny the thrill of flying, bent down on his broom in a dive that whips his hair back and rushes in his ears, but as of right now, he’s a little distracted by how Lance’s commentary seems... less than professional.

“And Rizavi snatches the Quaffle, along with my _wig_ — shut up, Pidge, it makes sense— and Kogane is going for it— going— oh! Narrowly avoids a Bludger with a risky upside down maneuver— damn, wouldn’t mind those thighs wrapped around me—“

Keith nearly falls off of his broom. What? The fuck? Lance seems equally confused by what just came out of his mouth, floundering for a second.

“Uh, I mean, good show of physical conditioning from the Gryffindor team— so we have the _coolest older sister in the world_ , Veronica, going for the Quaffle again, it‘s falling, falling— and she catches it! And oh, no.” Lance could not physically sound less concerned. “Lotor seems to have been struck by a stray Bludger.”

Keith whips around. Their Keeper is indeed swaying slightly on his broom, but catches his eye and motions that he’s okay. As much as Keith has been at odds with Lotor throughout the years, he doesn’t actually want him injured.

“But, well. Guess he’s recovered. A shame. Kinkade takes the distraction, tries to go for McClain— and— he intercepts! Passes to Griffin— backs to Rizavi— Acxa swoops in! Close call with another shot from Sven— damn, he’s brutal when we wants to be, huh? Straight for the jugular. And oh— Leifsdottir’s going into a dive! Has she spotted the Snitch?”

Keith knows he can’t do anything, much as he wants to scan for the Snitch himself, so he focuses on recovering the Quaffle from Acxa.

“And we’re getting some strategy here? Kogane falling back, towards his fellow Chaser, weaving up over Slav— sure hope that broom isn’t the only thing he’s planning on riding today—“

Keith feels his ears burn— what has gotten into Lance?

“Nothing impure intended by, uh, that.” Lance sounds flustered. “Kogane— by the way, looking like a whole five-course meal with his hair tied back, like, okay, go off emo boy— Zethrid shoots a Bludger, Griffin dodges— no he doesn’t, ouch, that’s gonna bruise—“

He grins to himself. Ezor and Zethrid are a ruthless duo, and he’s glad they’re on his team and not against him. Hopefully he can track Lance down after the match and find out why he’s being so weird.

“Bludger’s coming back around! Another near-hit— wish my balls were that close to Keith’s face— oh my FUCK, that wasn’t— I didn’t— Veronica makes it across the field and scores!”

The crowd cheers and Keith can feel heat creeping up his neck, and not just from exertion.

“Matt Holt fucking launches the Quaffle back, Kinkade and Acxa make a dive for it— Kinkade gets it! And Kogane and Acxa are going after him— a scuffle— Kogane emerges with the Quaffle under his arm, what do _I_ have to do to be under him— Pidge, stop me, I’m begging you—“

Pidge cackles as the crowd, apparently eating it all up, roars. “Nah, I think we’ve found something more entertaining than sports up here.”

“I hate you! So much! And Slav nearly takes down Romelle, who’s scanning the field— clipped her shoulder, but she seems fine— her and Leifsdottir are circling, Kogane charges toward Matt, looking to score again— woo, can I score with him later tonight? Fuck, fuck, fuck, someone stop me, have mercy— I mean, unless gentleness isn’t your thing, Keith, those _biceps_ , fucking toss me around like a Quaffle—

Professor Dayak’s piercing voice echoes through the stadium. “Mr. McClain! That is _enough!_ You need to come with me—“

“I’d rather come with Keith instead— HOLY FUCK, I did not mean to say that— oh thank all that’s holy, Romelle my now-savior has caught the Snitch and ended my suffering. Good night everyone, Gryffindor wins, I’m going to go jump into the lake now.”

* * *

Lance is going to die. Whatever fucking possessed him to turn _every single move_ Keith made into a shameless innuendo seems to have left him now, as all he wants to do is crawl into a hole and stay there til he dissipates into dust.

“Oh, man,” Pidge is nearly crying with laughter as they venture back towards the castle among the throngs of students, many of whom clap Lance on the back for his apparently _uproariously hilarious_ commentary.

“What fucking got into me?” Lance mutters, casting a glance around for any hotheaded Gryffindor captains nearby.

“I guess I should’ve mentioned you may have ingested a sort-of truth serum that Shay was carrying when she spilled her stuff this morning.” Pidge doesn’t sound regretful at all. They pass through the castle doors and turn towards the staircase that leads them to the Ravenclaw dormitories.

“So you just let me embarrass myself and Keith in front of the entire school and get chewed out by Dayak?” Lance nearly screeches. 

They look a little more contrite. “I talked to Dayak afterwards and managed to keep her from docking points, and I really didn’t think it affected you until— well, you know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s... whatever. I think I’ll just hide in my room for all of next week. Maybe gossip’ll die down by then.” Lance looks down defeatedly.

“Hey, I’m sure—“

“Lance.”

They both look up to see Keith, still in his Quidditch uniform, hair mussed and tangled, standing before them. His face is flushed, probably part of just getting out of a game and, well.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Lance seems to have lost the capability to speak, so Pidge answers for him. “Yes, he would.” They nudge him towards Keith, muttering, ”Shoot your shot, loverboy,” before disappearing into another hallway.

Keith leads him to an unoccupied classroom. When the door closes behind them, he turns to face Lance. “Um.”

“It was— it wasn’t me!” Lance bursts out. “Well, I mean, it was me, like, not like I was a Polyjuice clone or anything it was— someone spilled this weird potion thing into my orange juice this morning and I— it made me say what was on my mind, but like, I never would’ve said all that out loud—“

“Lance.” Keith is smiling a little. “Breathe.”

Lance takes a moment to calm down.

“I’m so sorry, for how embarrassing that probably was for you.”

“It’s, uh.” Keith looks down. “It’s okay. I’m not... mad.”

“You aren’t?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was embarrassed, but it was a little funny. And I.” Keith hesitates before blurting out, “Wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend as friends?”

Lance thinks he might have actually died of embarrassment after the match and this is just, like, his death headspace and “going to Hogsmeade” is a euphemism for like, joining his dead ancestors in heaven.

“Hhuh?” he says intelligently.

“I— so, I know we’re not exactly close friends,” Keith flaps a hand. “And I get if you’re not— like, interested in me like that, but I thought about it after the game and I was— I want to be friends? Good friends? With you? And I wouldn’t actually mind asking you out on a date-date sometime but I figured we should try and be more-than-class-friends with each other first? If that.” He facepalms. “It made more sense in my head.”

“It makes sense.” Lance find his voice. “That’d be— that’d be great. I’d love to go with you.” He grins cheekily, managing to regain some charisma in his embarrassment. “And I wouldn’t mind you asking me out on a date-date sometime either.”

* * *

“And Leifsdottir snags the Snitch! But, as it turns out, the other team’s point advantage means... Gryffindor wins!”

The crowd roars and Keith feels a rush in his ears.

“And it looks like Gryffindor’s captain is still in the air— wait, he’s coming over here—“

Keith’s grin grows as he pulls his broom up and rises to the commentator’s booth. He locks eyes with Lance, flying closer until he’s suspended right in front of him.

“Keith?” Lance seems to have forgotten he’s still on commentating duty, his voice soft and surprised. 

Leaning forwards, Keith grabs a handful of Lance’s robes and pulls him closer. “Are you a Seeker?”

“Huh?”

He knows how goddamn cheesy this is, and he says it anyway. “‘Cause you seem to have captured my heart.”

Keith presses his lips against his boyfriend’s, heart pounding with the thrill of victory, the screaming of the crowd, and Lance’s tiny sigh as he melts against him.

It’s better than flying.

**Author's Note:**

> \- shoutout to my [incredible writer of a sister](https://forevfangirlwrites.tumblr.com) who edited this as well as jen and tay from the bonding over klance discord for writing like, All of the quidditch innuendos
> 
> \- i wanted space draco malfoy to be in slytherin but i needed seven team members lmao
> 
> \- i know jack shit about sports commentary so, like,,, i just made up things that were happening and had lance narrate them
> 
> -[fail to understand sports w me on tunglr](https://ayushipop.tumblr.com)
> 
> \- lance thirsting over each player as an excuse for me to let out my Feelings for them?? nah
> 
> \- just to clarify, these are the teams:
> 
> \- hufflepuff:  
> Rivazi, Kinkade, Griffin - Chasers  
> Matt - Keeper  
> Slav & Sven - Beaters  
> Leifsdottir - Seeker
> 
> \- gryffindor:  
> Keith, Veronica, Acxa - Chasers  
> Lotor - Keeper  
> Ezor & Zethrid - Beaters  
> Romelle - Seeker


End file.
